


I Was Never Good Like You

by okaybi



Series: In Our Darkest Hours [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Break Up, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War Team Iron Man, F/M, Family, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, M/M, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Medical Inaccuracies, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Out of Character, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Post-Break Up, Tony Stark Deserves Better, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Relationships, both physically and emotionally, but i personally don't think it's steve, i'm screaming into the void pals, not team Cap friendly, someone is probably, sorry i don't know anything :/
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaybi/pseuds/okaybi
Summary: Tony Stark thinks he knows all about heartbreak.As it turns out, he doesn't.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship
Series: In Our Darkest Hours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755412
Comments: 19
Kudos: 451





	I Was Never Good Like You

**Author's Note:**

> I cried a lot while writing this but I think it was just the stress getting to me tbh. This is one of my first attempts writing something that is not fluff (or crack), I hope it doesn't suck ? lol enjoy :)
> 
> title from Writer In The Dark by Lorde

Tony Stark knows heartbreak. Every inch of his heart has been splintered, cut, torn, or maimed. 

It’s one of the first things Tony learns, actually. Surprise surprise, the lesson is taught by his father. Tony is incompotent, incapable, idiotic, weak, a disgrace of an heir. Because that’s all he is to Howard, an heir. Never a son. And in comparison to Captain America, Tony is a piece of scum on the bottom of Howard’s shoe that he just can’t seem to scrape off. Not that he doesn’t try. Truthfully, Howard is either absent or angry and when he’s angry, well, Tony prefers absent.

But then he learns again and again and again. From his mother, who loves him but won’t stick up for him, won’t even comfort him most of the time, because she’s too out of it. He isn’t even sure why she’s out of it, but she is. Aunt Peggy who is witness to all of the ways in which Tony’s home life breaks him and yet… It probably isn’t fair of him to hold that against her, she  _ does _ have a super secret spy organization to run, but it’s hard not to. Obadiah Stane who tries repeatedly to have Tony killed and when no one else can do it, Stane takes matters into his own hands. Natashlie’s betrayal, even if Tony hasn’t known her long, isn’t a cake walk either. The end of his and Pepper’s relationship, while amicable, still hurts like a gaping wound in his chest has taken the place of his heart—wait, that’s already happened. Maybe he should think of a better analogy. 

The point is, heartbreak is a familiar concept in his life. 

He’s pretty confident that his heart has been pushed around in all possible combinations, that he’s become acquainted with the ways it can be broken and every piece it is liable to split into. 

As it turns out, he’s wrong. Utterly, naively wrong. 

The bunker is freezing, he’s sure of it. It’s in fucking Siberia, for Christ’s sake. That knowledge, however, doesn’t make Tony feel the cold. Which is a bad sign, he knows, but it’s hard to bring himself to really, truly care about that. 

Not when there’s a gleaming shield lying mere feet away from his broken suit. A shield Tony’s shitty father made for his “greatest creation,” and that Captain America, the paragon of righteous justice and  _ good,  _ slammed into his chest a few times. 

Steve Rogers—who continuously berated his boyfriend for not being a true hero, a self-sacrificing one, or even a moral, decent person—just left said boyfriend in a HYDRA bunker, halfway beaten to death, and unable to call for help. What a way to dump a guy. Very subtle. 

It all makes sense now. The lies that Steve had whispered through the phone, but never to Tony’s face. He wasn’t home enough for that. It was all for this. For his one great love. In the face of their iconic love story, Tony is but an annoying fly that keeps buzzing around their heads and Steve’s shield acts as the swatter. 

Anger is at the tip of his fingers and he wants to grasp it, but deep down he knows this is his fault. If he had just been better, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe if he left the lab more, drank coffee less, let go of the snark and the sarcasm, just became overall less himself _ , _ like Steve was always asking of him. 

He almost wishes for death to take him. It wouldn't be hard, he's so close to the end already. But there's Harley to think about; he can't leave him. Not intentionally, or he'd be no better than Howard and Harley's own deadbeat sperm donor. And the spider kid, Peter. There's so much excitement in his young face, so much zest for life even though he has lost so much already. Rhodey would never forgive Tony if he let himself go, and neither would Happy. Pepper would haul him back from the beyond to tell him he’s not supposed to be getting himself killed. The thought makes him laugh (and then choke). 

So fuck Steve, and fuck Tony’s fickle, beaten heart. The sentiment extends to every other Avenger that preached about family, love, and unity, because obviously those never applied to Tony. After all, they left in the end. Not one of them had the decency to warn him about what was going on behind his back. They wanted his money and the protection he offered them, but it’s clear now that they never wanted him. The realization aches, especially since he knows he would do anything for them. It’s possible, though, that they could be right to be wary of him, that this could have been his doing.

No, this is on them. He is not going to lay down and take the blame for the mess they’ve made, not this time. 

He'll dance with death, no big deal. It's not like he hasn't come out on top before. This is a fight he's certain that he's going to win, because he wants to. He has to. There's a desperation building in his chest; it screams and pleads to see Harley’s high school graduation, to help Peter reach his full, brilliant potential, to see Rhodey, his platypus, walk again, to let Happy kick his ass in boxing one more time, to drink wine on the terrace with Pepper. And Vision, there is so much left for him to teach Vision about life. 

(If spite is another factor in Tony’s sudden desire to survive and thrive, well, isn’t it just about everyone’s driving force?) 

He’s going to live. He doesn’t know how, but he’s going to. 

Tony is fairly certain FRIDAY sent out a distress signal when the suit lost power, all he has to do is keep breathing until help arrives. Easy enough. He prays that she sent it. 

(He hasn’t prayed since he was eighteen and he got the news that the Jarvis’ were in an accident. The news that was delivered via a phone call from another employee at the Stark Manor, because his parents couldn’t be bothered to do it themselves.)

He mentally applauds himself for waiting until Vision gets there to pass out. 

***

"We can't just let them get away with this," someone hisses, obviously trying to be quiet, though Tony hasn't the slightest idea as to why, "Look at what they did to him."

"I'm not saying we let them get away with this, I'm saying that we have to wait for him to wake up so he can decide." Oh, Tony figures he's probably the one that needs to wake up. Except, he is awake but he can't seem to open his eyes. 

“That’s not what you were sayin-”

He twitches a hand, trying to move it, only to find that there's another hand desperately clinging onto him. 

"Mr. Stark?" Peter, Peter is clutching his hand.

He attempts to move the other one, to reach back towards Peter.

"Tony?" A groggy voice asks, sounding almost exactly like the eleven year old boy Tony first met him as. 

Tony manages to croak out a "Kids," before realizing his throat is as rough as sandpaper. Neat. Still, his immediate goal is to comfort. “Kids, ‘m okay,” he insists, prying his eyes open at last. Just in time, too, because both Peter and Harley immediately throw themselves at him, noses pressing into each side of his neck. 

To his surprise, the added weight doesn’t aggravate any wounds… He should have wounds, right? Unless—no they wouldn’t have done that. 

With his recently empty hands, Tony cradles the back of both teens’ heads, murmuring soothing words unconsciously. He meets Rhodey’s eyes across the room, giving him and Pepper both a small, tired smile. Neither of them say anything, but Pepper pours him a glass of water and holds it to his lips until he finishes it. 

“Tones,” Rhodey says, the name breaking as it leaves his mouth.

Tony raises a playful eyebrow. “What’s with the long face, Rhodeybear? It’s not like I’m dead.” That gets a quiet snort from Harley, but Rhodey looks more pained than before. “Too soon?”

“Tones, you should know that-”

“No,” Tony says firmly, “No, don’t tell me.” 

There are tears streaming down Rhodey’s face now, and he looks helplessly up—and isn’t that crazy? Rhodey has rarely had to look up at anyone before, much less anyone in their friend group. Tony wishes he could convince himself it’s not his fault—to Pepper, apparently unable to stomach telling Tony what needs to be said.

Pepper steels herself. Moisture gathers in her eyes but she has always been the best at keeping her composure out of all of them. “Vision got you here, and you were immediately taken to surgery to completely reconstruct your chest and still the arc reactor had to be reinstated. We- They tried for days to get you in the clear, but you only stabilized for short periods of time and you weren’t going to make it. So we decided the best course of action was to have Dr. Cho inject you with the strain of Extremis that is stable, the one you’d been working on in case of emergencies. At first, it didn’t seem like it was going to take but… You’ve been unconscious for a month now.” 

“I made that decision,” Rhodey says, “don’t let her tell you otherwise.” And that, that makes sense to Tony, because Rhodey is his medical proxy. He has been since Tony was eighteen and his parents didn’t care about him and the only parents that ever did were  _ dead _ . Rhodey cared, and continues to care, even as Tony tried desperately to push him away. “I’m a selfish bastard, I couldn’t let you die, couldn’t say goodbye to you. Even if I knew you didn’t want Extremis.”

The thing is, Tony doesn’t have it in him to be upset. Sure, this is one of the last things he wanted to happen, but it’s better than death. If it means that he can spend more time with his little mix-match family, he isn’t going to complain. 

So he nods. “We’ll discuss what this means for me later.”  _ Not in front of the kids.  _ “For now, tell Happy and Vis to quit standing around outside and get in here.” 

As the two step into the room, a nagging thought snags in Tony’s brain, about all the people he has lost. He violently shoves it aside; he’ll grieve his losses later. 

This moment is for reveling in those he still has.

***

Tony jolts awake from a nightmare, gasping for breath. 

After they ordered a late lunch/early dinner and ate in Tony’s hospital room, he was informed that he could leave. So he gets the pleasure of sleeping in his bed for the first time in over two weeks. 

Unfortunately, it’s not as peaceful as it could have been. That is, if he wasn’t the traumatized person that he is. Thus, the nightmares. 

This one, predictably, is about Steve. But this time it’s not him under that star spangled shield it’s Harley, then Peter, Rhodey, and down the line. Each of the people Tony cares about gets their turn. 

To top off that vivid image, he also sees the Winter Soldier’s hand around his mother’s throat. Even if she wasn’t the best parent, she was still one of the most caring adults he had around. Her death haunts him, especially now. 

Since there’s no way he’s going back to sleep after  _ that _ , he figures he can grab some fruit—pineapple sounds weirdly good right now—and head on down to the lab. Business per usual. 

“What are you doing up?” He asks Rhodey who is sitting at the table with a mug gripped tightly between his hands.

“Waiting for your dumbass. Someone has to keep you from working yourself to death in the ‘shop.” 

Tony gives him a crooked grin, because, yeah that’s a fair point, and makes his way to the fridge. “Nonsense platypus, I’m only up to get some fruit. Healthy foods for a healthy recovery and all that.” He rifles around the fridge, moving its contents this way and that looking for his snack. 

Rhodey snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Well there’s work to be done.” 

“It can wait, Tones,” Rhodey insists, tone gentle and soothing. It makes Tony ache with the want to collapse into his arms, the desire he refuses to give in to time and time again. He doesn’t deserve the comfort, never has. Doesn’t even deserve to have James Rhodes anywhere near his mess of a life. The only times he allows himself to be selfish is when he is good and shiny and happy—or as close to it as he gets. If Tony wraps his arms around Rhodey when he’s like this, well, it’ll only serve to drag Rhodey down with him. 

“Aha!” Tony triumphantly pulls the tupperware container of sliced pineapple out of the very depths of his fridge, smiling widely as he pulls a fork from the drawer to his left. It takes less effort than usual to maneuver himself into a sitting position on the counter across from the table. He tries not to dwell on it. 

The obvious solution is to shovel pineapple into his mouth until he is physically unable to think of anything. Not thinking has never been one of Tony’s strong suits, but hey it’s worth a shot. If he’s lucky his brain will take to creating if it does decide to think, and not any of his recent, less-than-ideal... shall we say issues. 

Rhodey lets out an exasperated breath. That tends to be a common reaction to Tony, not that he could blame them. He’s a disaster. He’ll own that. “Tony, you can’t run yourself ragged. You need to take time to grieve and to heal. This isn’t just some minor mishap to be pushed aside; if you don’t deal with it now, it will come back to haunt you.”

Oh, if only he knew that it’s already haunting Tony. 

“How’d the kids get here?” A quick subject change, while not subtle in the slightest, is probably his only way to delay this conversation. And boy does he want to delay it. Besides, it’s a valid question. 

Another sigh. “You know we can’t avoid this forever, right?”

“Oh, I definitely can,” Tony retorts. If there’s one thing he’s sure about, it’s his ability to avoid little talks that he doesn’t want to have. 

“I don’t know if you want to talk about this any more than you want to talk about the other thing,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “Someone leaked the footage from the bunker a couple of days ago. Both of your parents’ death and of the fight. Peter said he begged his aunt to let him come, even told her about Spider-Man. When she agreed to let him come, he called Happy until he finally got an answer, and then swung over here.”

Huh, so the kid took his advice after all. Good to know. “What about Harley?” 

“He drove,” Rhodey deadpans. 

Tony laughs, because his sour patch is hilarious. “No really, how’d he get here?”

“He drove,” Rhodey repeats, “all the way from Tennessee. Didn’t even tell his mom.” 

Smile falling, Tony demands, “What the hell do you mean he drove? The kid is thirteen!”

“Yeah, and apparently a damn good driver, too.” 

“There’s no way his little legs can even reach the pedals!” Tony exclaims, because this shouldn’t be possible and it’s definitely not okay. The kid, his kid, drove a car 917.7 miles. And for what, for him? Idiotic, reckless children. 

Rhodey’s face softens, the way it always does for Tony. “He was worried. You’re practically his dad, and he wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

God, why did the idiotic, reckless children have to have such pure, adorable motives? It’s like he can’t even be  _ mad.  _ (Except, he totally can, and is.) 

“Did someone at least call his mom?”

“Who do you think we are? Of course we called his mom, she told us he could stay for a while, but to tell him he’s in heaps of trouble when he gets back.”

Tony grumbles a bit, but is touched by the thought all the same. Who knew that Tony Stark, arguably the worst influence to ever exist, would somehow get two amazing, brilliant kids to look up to him? Not only that, but to fret over him? 

Eventually, Rhodey breaks the silence. “We need to talk about this, Tones. If not it’ll build up until you can’t hold it anymore no matter how much you try.” At this point, he’s almost begging. 

Tony grinds his teeth. “I’m not putting my problems on you.” He can’t, he needs to learn to handle his own. The consequences of dragging his loved ones into his messes have more than been enough to show him he should never do it again. 

Rhodey throws his hands in the air. “You’re not Atlas,” he says, voice pleading and sad and oh what Tony would do to never hear it take on this tone again. “You don’t have to carry the sky all by yourself. Please, please talk to one of us. Rogers is, fuck, Rogers is a dick, and I will kill him for what he’s done to you.” Tony’s head snaps up to stare at Rhodey’s dead serious face. “The rest of them, too. I know I’m pretty messed up about it, so I can’t imagine how you feel. Just, talk to us, yeah?” 

“You can’t become a murderer for me,” Tony says immediately. 

He gets a look that distinctly wonders if that’s really what he got out of that entire speech. Tony nods, resulting in a fond huff of laughter. “The fuck I can’t.”

“No murder for you,” Tony teases, even if he means it with everything he is. There’s no way in any universe that he’ll let Rhodey become a murderer for such a minor reason as his breakup. Come on, at least make it worth it.

“You’re still stalling,” Rhodey points out. Tony’s eyes roll of their own accord, because  _ duh _ .

Tony finishes off the last of his pineapple, which, sad. Although, it gives him the perfect opportunity to… “Astute observation,” he says, sliding off the counter. Carefully, he places the empty container in the sink. “Well, I’m off to the lab; work to be done, robots to reassure. I’m sure you understand.” Before Rhodey can reprimand him, or God forbid, force him to talk about feelings, Tony is gone. 

***

It’s been three—wait, four. Yeah, definitely four—days, and Tony hasn’t left his lab. He hasn't slept, either. Not that he would have if he was anywhere else. Anyway, who needs sleep when there’s ample coffee to go around? 

Day one was dedicated to sending emails, making phone calls, reassuring the company and his employees that he’s fine and he’s coming back to work. Updating them on new procedures, the new department he’s opening, the due and release dates that have to be pushed back a few weeks. Set up press conferences, because wow are they going to need a multitude of those. All in all, it’s fairly easy. 

Day two was Ross. Enough said. 

Day three was when the real goal got started. He made calls to all the best doctors he knows from schmoozing his way around galas and conferences. He’d never been glad about having to parade around other (slightly less) smart people until then. The exchange between him and one Dr. Stephen Strange, world renowned neurosurgeon (even if he isn’t practicing anymore), proved the most useful for what he has planned. 

Which brings him to day four. The schematics are already drawn up, and have been since around two in the morning. He’s fairly sure he can make this work. Who is he kidding, he’s Tony fucking Stark, of course he’s going to make this work. Even Strange said it should go as planned, so it’s looking up for him. It’s time to do what he does best, build.

Tony grins, five hours into day five, at the pair of (fingers crossed) fully functioning braces laying on his work station in front of him. “FRI, be a doll and send Rhodey down here, would you?” 

“Of course, boss.” 

Moments later, the elevator dings and Rhodey’s wheeling into the lab, smiling at DUM-E and U. He quirks an eyebrow at Tony in obvious confusion. “What’s up?”

Thrusting the braces at Rhodey, Tony explains, “These should work, and if they don’t I’ll keep going at it until they do. I’ve integrated a similar functionality into all of your suits. Let me know if those braces need any upgrades, any functions you think they need.” 

“Tony-” Rhodey’s eyes well up. “I’m gonna walk again? I’m… I’m gonna fly again?” 

Determination fills Tony’s veins, makes his voice steady when he says, “Yes. Yes, James, if I have anything to say about it, you’re going to walk  _ and _ fly again.” 

An arm wraps tightly around Tony’s waist, holds him firmly in place. “Jesus-”

“Tony’s fine.”

Rhodey lightly taps his shoulder at that. “Christ you’re brilliant,” he finishes, smiling brightly up at Tony. It’s a surprisingly soft moment, by Tony’s definition. Until Rhodey wrinkles his nose. “But ugh, man, you stink,” he complains, shoving at Tony’s shoulders jokingly. “Go shower.” 

Lifting an eyebrow, Tony says, “Will do,” before saluting in that sloppy way he knows Rhodey hates. He heads to the shower he had installed in the lab’s bathroom—for efficiency, Pepper, obviously—and then turns back around at the last second. “Wait for me to test those out? Wanna make sure everything’s working well.” 

“‘Course, Tones,” Rhodey assures him. 

Tony shoots him slightly awkward finger guns, in true Tony fashion, and wanders off for his much needed shower. 

His shower is relatively quick. What really catches him up is when he exits and sees himself in the mirror. His signature—dare he say iconic—goatee is in desperate need of a touch up. So, he does that. Which, admittedly, takes up some time. For a moment, he considers shaving it off, Steve always did say he wished Tony would go clean shaven. 

No, nope, Steve is persona non grata at the moment, and he refuses to think about this mess right now. Tony tosses the razor somewhere onto the sink. Takes a deep breath. Then another, and another. He counts in the way that Harley taught him a couple years ago. Surprisingly, it works. 

Once he calms down from that, though, the fact that he hasn’t seen or even spoken to literally anyone in nearly six days hits him. He doesn’t even know if Harley and Peter are still here in the building, how could he be this much of an idiot? 

A quick knock breaks him out of his thoughts. “Tones?” Rhodey calls. “You okay in there?”

Splashing some water on his face, Tony forces himself to be put together. (It is what’s expected of him. What’s always been expected of him.) “Yeah, gimme a sec.” He grabs his towel, drying his hair as he opens the door. 

“Where are we doing this?” 

Tony waves a hand. “Upstairs? It’s too cramped down here.” 

Snorting, Rhodey says, “Huh, I wonder why that is.” Tony throws his towel at him. 

They ride back up to the main floor, where there’s a gym and a physical therapist waiting for them in it. (Yes, Tony did indeed call them in around when he first gave Rhodey the braces. And yes, he did get the most highly qualified physical therapist, at Strange’s recommendation.)

Tony demonstrates where the straps go and how everything fits together, and Dr. Cardenas gets them situated on Rhodey’s legs. Once everything is put in place, Rhodey must do some exercises to see what he can move and Tony makes a mental checklist of features to add to make the braces as comfortable as possible. 

“Okay, I think you can try some steps at the bars,” Dr. Cardenas says, gesturing at said bars a couple feet away. 

Rhodey makes it one and half halting steps before his legs buckle. He pulls himself back to his feet with the help of the bars. While Tony worries that Rhodey will be frustrated—understandably so—he really shouldn’t. There’s a little smile painting Rhodey’s features, and his eyes are light with glee. 

“Holy fuck,” Rhodey breaths, “I never thought I was going to be able to do that again.” He takes more staggering strides, determined to make it to the end of the bars. It takes some time, and there are a few more falls, but he gets there. He lets out a whoop of pure delight, turning to Tony, who didn’t realize that there are tears streaming down his face until that moment. 

Gaze and smile softening, Rhodey carefully makes his way to Tony. Gentle hands cradle Tony’s face, thumbs wiping the tears off his cheeks. He shoots Rhodey a grateful look, then goes up on his toes and places a quick kiss to Rhodey’s cheek. 

Dr. Cardenas clears her throat, though she’s smiling at the pair. “Colonel Rhodes, it’s of my professional opinion that you remain in physical therapy for a while, in order to build up strength in your legs and get used to the braces. You shouldn’t wear them full time, at least not right now; we’ll revisit that possibility later on. Take breaks, especially if you start feeling sore, understand? Dr. Stark,” she continues, “those braces are revolutionary. I do hope that they are made available to the public at some point.”

“Of course, that’s what the new Stark Industries Medical Branch is there for. Thank you for your time and assistance, Doctor.” 

“Yes, thank you very much,” Rhodey says sincerely. 

The doctor inclines her head, smiling, and exits the gym. Leaving Rhodey and Tony to themselves. “You’re brilliant,” Rhodey marvels, and presses two successive kisses to Tony’s forehead. 

Tony laughs. “So you keep telling me.” 

“Somebody needs to appreciate you. I think me, the boys, Pep, and Happy can do that,” Rhodey tells him matter-of-factly. As if this is a given, as if he should have always been appreciated for his contributions and kindness. It nearly overwhelms him. 

“Speaking of,” Tony takes the opportunity to circumvent the conversation, “where are the boys? Still running around here like the rugrats they are?” 

That draws a fond eye roll from Rhodey. Much better than the serious expressions they were both sporting only seconds ago. “They’re preteens, not five year olds.” 

Tony full body shudders, because him interacting with five year olds? Ha. 

“But yeah they’re here, probably in the kitchen. It is past lunchtime.” 

Relief floods Tony, he’s glad they haven’t left. Especially when he’s been holed up in his lab this entire time. “Well what are we waiting for, platypus?” 

“Alright let me just-” He eases off his feet and into his wheelchair, meticulously undoing all of the straps and holds on the braces. “Was getting a little sore.” 

Tony nods his head in understanding, and together they head to the kitchen. They find Harley and Peter attempting—and failing miserably—to make macaroni and cheese while FRIDAY reads out instructions that they’re clearly ignoring. Sending Rhodey a look that says ‘Can you believe this?’, Tony claps his hands together. Loudly. 

The boys startle, turning to face the entryway. “Oh,” Peter says, sheepishly, “hi Mr. Stark.”

Harley snorts. “‘Mr. Stark’? Can’t believe you’re making this poor boy call you that, old man.” 

Against his will, Tony feels a smile stretch across his face. He distracts from this by ruffling Harley’s hair. “Both of you, out. Or at least sit down at the counter and get away from the stove. I’ll cook, how’s pasta sound?” 

“Mr. Stark, mac and cheese is pasta.” 

Vaguely, Tony hears Rhodey mutter a “Oh here we go,” but elects to ignore it in favor of staring at Peter in astonishment. “Spiderling, I know you didn’t just say that.” He grabs the ingredients out of the pantry. “You’re about to learn the wonders of true pasta, kid. Can’t believe this. Isn’t your aunt Italian?” 

Peter lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, but she’s an awful cook. Terrible. Burns everything she tries to make, actually. Wait!” He throws a not at all subtle look at Harley, who has his best innocent face on display. Then Peter turns an accusatory glare at Tony that Tony did not think he was capable of. 

“He already knew,” Tony says, because there’s no way they’ve spent at least five days near each other without Harley figuring it out. He probably realized that very first day he met Peter, whenever that was. 

“No he didn’t.” 

“I totally did,” Harley cuts in, a smug little smile accompanying it. 

Groaning, Peter throws his hands up. “I’m awful at this secret identity thing.”

“Totally,” Tony agrees.

“Undoubtedly,” Rhodey throws in.

“FRIDAY, will you ask Vis if he would like to come down and learn how to make tortellini?” Tony asks, mostly to keep the attention off the all too shy spider kid. 

There’s a brief pause as the AI relays the message and awaits an answer. “He says he’ll be right down.” 

Tony goes back to work setting up everything he needs, the hum of conversation in the background a soothing tune. With the boys and Rhodey here it’s easy to remember that he’s not alone. It’s nice. Especially since he normally can’t have Harley around as often as he would like to because of school—shit.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be in school?” 

“Considering it’s summer break, no I don’t believe so,” Harley snarks. 

Whirling to face Peter, Tony puts his hands on his hips. “Underoos,” he says, ignoring Harley’s obnoxious snicker, “you literally told me you couldn’t come to Germany because you had homework.” 

Peter swats a lazy hand at Harley’s shoulder, scowling. “Because we were in school then,” he says, as if it’s as obvious as anything, as if Tony’s the stupid one here. Okay, granted, he might be the stupid one. It has been a few weeks now. “Are we gonna talk about how Mr. Stark can apparently cook?” He asks the room at large. 

“Yeah, I figured you’d be trash in the kitchen,” Harley piggybacks. God, Tony can’t believe there are two of them. How did he let this happen? 

Rhodey saves him the trouble of answering. “Maria kept all of her mother’s recipes, and Ana Jarvis helped Tony learn how to make each one. They had a good time from what I’ve heard, and Tony was a natural.” The memory of Ana sends a searing pain through him, followed in succession by the ache that Maria’s death—murder—now leaves him with. He may not have gotten along with either of his parents, far from it really, but against all his brain’s pleading he still loved them. 

“Of course I was a natural, I’m fantastic at everything I do.” He gives a teasing eye roll, hoping he has sufficiently covered his sadness. Rhodey notices, though. Always does. 

Vision arrives with impeccable timing, which is a wonderful trait that Tony currently appreciates greatly. 

“Come on over here Vis, I’m just getting started.” 

They go step by step through the process of making tortellini, Vision asking questions where he needs to. It’s relaxing; increasingly so with the teasing remarks the others are spouting at each other. The act of teaching someone else how to cook is remarkably fun, and he thinks he understands why Ana taught him. It’s the tradition of passing something of yourself on—like the way Ana made goulash just a little different from her parents, and how Tony found an alternative ingredient here and there. It’s legacy, but it’s also love. Wanting to see someone else succeed, thrive, find their own path. 

Or maybe, Tony’s gone crazy from all the traumatic events he’s been through. Yeah, that’s it.

“Food is served,” Tony declares, voice prim and proper. 

“Great, Happy’s on his way up to grab some for himself and some to take down for Pepper.” 

“Already in the tupperware, Rhodeybear.” 

Happy comes and goes with a nod of greeting and a vague grunt in response to Peter’s “hello.” They all sit down to eat, chit chatting about mindless topics. To some it might seem natural, but Tony knows they’re tiptoeing to make sure they don’t accidentally bring up the Rogues. It’s sweet and annoying. 

It’s interesting, though, having people that care enough to not want to upset him.

***

_ “This is your fault, Tony. Don’t you see? You could’ve stopped this. I loved you and you threw it all away because you can’t control your emotions.”  _

_ There are hands around his throat, he couldn’t tell you whose _ — _ Loki’s, Thor’s, Obie’s a whole host of others, perhaps _ — _ he just knows they’re  _ there _. That’s not the most pressing matter, though, because the bodies of everyone he’s ever loved are lying motionless, scattered about the floor.  _

_ Rhodey lies in broken armor, armor that Tony made; that means Tony wasn’t able to protect him, and now he’s  _ dead _. Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair is a shock compared to the dirt and blood marring her face. Happy is lying over her, as if he died trying to keep her safe. Vision is in pieces, the mind stone that he normally carries is nowhere to be seen. A few feet away are Harley and Peter. Harley’s hair is matted with blood, and Peter’s suit is torn to shreds around him, but still he appears to have tried to fight. His eyes are wide open and fearful.  _

_ Dead, dead, dead; they’re all dead. Why is he still alive then, if they’re gone? _

_ The grip on his neck tightens. “This is what your love does to people,” Steve, because that’s definitely Steve’s voice, hisses in his ear. “It destroys them, kills them. Ana and Edwin, Howard and Maria, Stane, me. _

_ “They’re dead because of you. I should’ve killed yo-” _

Tony wakes in his room, covers and sheets pushed to the end of the bed, hyperventilating. He tries to find something to focus on, grasps at all the little details around him. 

The sheets underneath him are damp from sweat. He feels gross. 

There’s a burning sensation in his throat. His stomach is in knots. 

The closet light is on, for some reason.

His hands are shaking. 

FRIDAY says that it’s half past midnight. 

This was his first night sleeping in five days, and it ends like this. Cool. Coffee and lab binges are a definite improvement. 

Now that he’s up, he can go do that. Rhodey’s War Machine suit needs a quick look over. Spidey could go for an upgrade, for sure. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to ready an armor for Pepper, Harley, and Happy, too. The stone in Vision’s head requires research as well. 

With his plans made, Tony slides out of bed on shaky legs that nearly collapse under his weight. Nevertheless, he gets to the door and down the hall to the kitchen, where he can get his coffee fix. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Tony jumps before turning around to glare. “Rhodey, honey bunches, why aren’t you asleep?” Rhodey’s rubbing at his eyes to force himself to wake up, the clasps on his braces haphazardly done.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Rhodey counters.

“Irrelevant.”

“Well, I would be sleeping if you were.” 

“How’s that?” Tony tries for snarky but knows he falls short. Exhaustion does that sometimes.

Rhodey’s mouth opens in a loud yawn but he answers through it. “FRIDAY tells me when you leave your room to go to the lab at weird hours.” 

“It’s not that weird,” he insists, “it’s only like midnight. Not even one!”

There’s that look again, the one that states quite explicitly how immune Rhodey is to Tony’s bullshit. Oh well, it was worth a shot. 

Muttering about his best friend’s idiocy, Rhodey pushes past him and into the kitchen. He pulls out two glasses, fills them with water, and then jerks his chin at Tony to indicate they’re moving to the living room. “Sit,” he directs, taking a seat with his side pressed against the arm of the couch. 

Scowling, Tony does as told, lowering himself into the space next to Rhodey. Arguing takes energy he simply doesn’t have. They sip at their water until Rhodey speaks up. 

“We’re going to talk about this, Tones. You need to do something, it’s gotta be eating you up. Please, please talk to someone. We lov-”

“Yeah and I loved him, but what did that matter?” Tony snaps, and then he can’t stop. “I loved him, I loved all of them.” He chokes on a whine, feels the glass taken out of his white-knuckled grip. Strong hands curl around his shoulders and guide him into a firm embrace. “I loved them and they just- why did they do this? I did everything for them, paid their way, protected them from others, took an interest in their interests. And they- why did they do this?” He repeats. His body is shaking and he can’t make it stop, can’t control the ugly, racking sobs forcefully exiting his body. 

Rhodey shushes him, gently running his hands up Tony’s back in a soothing gesture. “Because they’re assholes. Assholes who don’t and never did deserve your love or kindness.” 

Dragging himself away, Tony shakes his head. “You don’t get it. My love is a curse, can’t you see? The Jarvis’, Pepper, Happy, you, Ste- Rogers. I’m the reason everyone leaves, or gets hurt, or dies. It’s me.” He raises his chin to meet Rhodey’s gaze defiantly. “I’m the Merchant of Death, and I kill everyone I love or that loves me, in one way or another. I deserve their hate, hell I deserve your hate. If only I did better, if I was better.” The last part is said so quietly that Tony isn’t sure he’s actually said it. 

“No, uh uh. This is not your fault, do you hear me? You’re too good for them.” Tony snorts disbelievingly through the tears stubbornly continuing to fall. Angrily, he swipes them away.  _ Stark men are made of iron _ . He burrows back into Rhodey’s arms to escape his father’s disapproving voice. “You’re the most giving, kind, brilliant, and loving person I know. Tones, this is on them for not recognizing what they had when they had it.” 

“Whatever you say,” Tony murmurs, hoping this is the end of the conversation. Luckily, Rhodey lets it drop for now. 

Rhodey shifts slightly, and Tony clutches onto the fabric of his shirt tighter with a little whine. Chuckling, Rhodey says, “Relax, I’m just trying to get these off.” He gestures to his braces. 

“Here.” Tony leans down and unbuckles the braces before helping Rhodey settle his legs on the couch. “What’s comfortable and what’s not?” He asks.

“Just come here,” Rhodey tells him, situating Tony so that his ear rests over Rhodey’s heart. Immediately, Tony latches on. “You’re like a koala, you know that?” 

“Shut it,” Tony grumbles, curling impossibly closer into Rhodey. 

“If you get to call me platypus, I’m calling you koala.” 

Tony smiles slightly. “Fair’s fair, I suppose.” 

They lay there for minutes or hours, just existing in each other’s presence. It’s comfortable and comforting and speaks of years of familiarity. 

“I’m like them now,” Tony says eventually, voice hollow in a way that he’s used to but doesn’t ever let seep out of him. “I’m just like them. Had a little chat with Helen and- I’ve got advanced healing, I’m faster and stronger and more nimble.”

To anyone else this wouldn’t have made sense, but this is Rhodey. “It doesn’t undo any of the accomplishments you’ve made.”

“I wanted to- I wanted to prove to Howard that I didn’t need a fancy serum to excel. That I could do it all on my own.” He lets out an empty laugh against Rhodey’s chest. “But look at me now, all super soldiered up, baby. I’m sure dear, dead dad would finally have been proud.” 

“Tones,” Rhodey says, endlessly kind, “Howard’s opinion is worthless. It was when he was alive and it’s even more so now. Besides, you’ve done so many things that he couldn’t have even dreamt of, and you’re going to continue to do stuff like that. Not because of any chemical enhancements, but because you’re  _ you _ .”

Tony shrugs. “Maybe. I still don’t like it.” 

“One day you might, with time and therapy and people to tell you it’s going to be alright.” 

“That day isn’t today.” 

“No,” Rhodey agrees, “it’s not today. And that’s okay.” 

“Thank you,” Tony says, voice heavy with sleep, “for everything, platypus.” 

A pair of lips press softly against Tony’s hair. “Of course, koala.” 

***

The letter comes the next morning. 

Rhodey guffaws at the name “Tony Stank,” and Tony is shocked that he doesn’t keel over from the force of his laughter. The boys run in after waking to the noise, and lose themselves in their giggles after hearing the explanation. 

Scanning the letter, it’s fairly easy to determine who it’s from. The others must notice that his face falls slightly, even though he’s sure his mask doesn’t slip, and they quiet down. Anticipatory glances get thrown his direction. He doesn’t acknowledge them. Instead, he places the letter on the coffee table and gestures to let them know they can read it. 

The first to grab it is Harley, because he’s never been particularly patient or unsure of himself. He reads it with thinly veiled fury strewn across his features before shoving it in Rhodey’s direction. Rhodey’s expression doesn’t change but his fingers crush the edge of the paper in his hand. Wordlessly, he passes it to Peter, whose frown furrows his brow and purses his lips. 

Tony is stuck on one part of the letter more than the others:  _ I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen.  _ Bullshit. Tony wonders how Barnes would feel reading this, or Sam, or Clint, or Aunt Peggy, for that matter. 

It’s ironic. He recently watched his biological parents get murdered, he was twenty-one when that happened. Even before that he was mostly on his own. He’d never say that, though, because even with the Jarvis’ passing and his parents’ own neglect, he had Rhodey. It was one person, but he wasn’t alone. 

And here’s Steve, with his declaration that he’s been all on his lonesome since the ripe age of eighteen when he has buckets of people to stand by him. Hell, just a little while ago Tony was one of those people. 

So yeah, Tony’s calling bullshit on the entire letter. 

On top of that he didn’t even apologize once, just circumvented the blame away from himself however he deemed fit. 

“Did he seriously write this to try to apologize?” Harley demands. And doesn’t that just spark the outburst. 

“I can’t believe he said the Avengers are your family after he took literally all of the original Avengers and most of the side ones, too!” Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen Peter furious, but he’s pretty sure that’s what he’s seeing now. 

Tony holds up the block of so-called technology that could be from the Middle Ages and waves it a bit to get their attention. “He left this.” 

“What are you going to do with it?” Rhodey asks. 

“Use it to track them, duh,” Tony answers, rolling his eyes. “FRIDAY?”

“Already working on it, boss.” 

“You’re the best,” he praises. 

“And the letter?” Harley questions. “What are you gonna do with that?”

Tony takes the letter from Peter, staring down at the recognizable handwriting and tracing it with his thumb. This is what Steve thinks Tony deserves: a half-hearted apology letter and false placating words. This is probably what Steve has always thought Tony deserved.

The bare minimum. 

He refolds the paper. 

And tears it to shreds. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking of turning this into a series and exploring the Rogues' perspectives Will most likely follow up with Tony's path to fully healing (bc this is no way goes into depth of Tony’s hurt at least imo) and some Ironhusbands.
> 
> Let me know what you think please!


End file.
